


The Sword Unsheathed: The Beaten Path

by The_Hunter_Nightingale



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: ...i need to stop, And love, Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Corrin is Elise's mother figure, Corrin just needs a hug, F/F, F/M, I'm an angsty person, I'm being serious, I'm sorry if the angst gets to be too much, I'm trying to make this a reimagining of Fire Emblem but a little more realisitic, Mostly love, Some Dark Humour, Some angst, Sorry-not-sorry, Swearing, XD, and a warm bath, and she needs protection from the bad things, because i love Elise to death, because this is a little realistic, crawling in my skin, expect to know what happens when a sword hits a person, maybe some toast, she's too pure for this world, that 'power of friendship and bonds' thing FE is known for won't be here all that much, these wounds they will not heal, uh...this is also now a tag i guess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-18
Updated: 2019-06-25
Packaged: 2019-11-23 16:16:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18154145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Hunter_Nightingale/pseuds/The_Hunter_Nightingale
Summary: She knew nothing save for training and ensuring her little sister would retain her innocence that little bit longer. She knew nothing but grey skies and stormy seas surrounding her, brick walls with cracks that let in drafts of chilling Nohrian wind. Nothing but trying to make her father see her as more than a liability, something to love as he did her other siblings.Now she knew much more than her sheltered life; she had two families, two places of loyalty. Two sheathes for a chipped blade to choose.Or:When all Corrin has known was battle and strategy against straw targets and invisible enemies, what will she do in the face of a very real threat?





	1. For Want of a Blade

**Author's Note:**

> "Don't you have the other stories you're working on to deal with?"
> 
> "Don't you need to finish those first?"
> 
> Yeah, yeah, but this idea wouldn't die in a ditch somewhere, so I had to see for myself whether or not I could will myself to write another story. It was, surprisingly, a rather easy thing to do.
> 
> I'm not apologising.
> 
> so if you couldn't tell from the numerous, ridiculous tags, this is my take on a realistic Fire Emblem. Sword hits? You bleed, lose limbs, have muscle and bone shredded, etcetera. Hammer hits you? Your bones pulverise, your ribs snap and crack.
> 
> these aren't actually examples, but they are tasters of what you'll see in the story...except a little more descriptive.
> 
> so...let's get right into it, yeah?
> 
> Notes for this chapter: This chapter is just to breeze past the whole 'getting Ganglari, fighting prisoners' thing. You'll notice she doesn't get Ganglari in this chapter - that's because I thought it was stupid that Garon would just give a sword like that to his daughter without at least seeing if she could wield one. I can't remmeber if she gets the sword before or after anyway, but oh well.

Camilla sighed for what felt like the fifth time today, the breath coming out in a wintery haze of white mist. While not quite hitting the ‘freezing’ mark, the temperature of the area seemed determined to turn her into an ice cube. Gooseflesh rose on the skin of her bare chest and face, and again she cursed her fashion sense.

Her sister, Corrin, had no such issues.

In bare feet the princess stood, red eye narrowed and sheer determination to finish what she started showing in every movement. To be honest Camilla envied her sister’s natural gift with a sword, and through hard practice that natural gift had only bloomed into something akin to mastery. Of course, Corrin was no master of the blade yet – she’d yet to defeat Xander, but her skills were improving at ridiculous speeds.

Her movements, however, confused her; and this was of course the reason for her sighs in the first place. Forget the cold, and the freezing temperament of a sister that wielded a sword as she would her own limbs, and one would find themselves confused at the movements. A waltzing step to the left, the sword gliding along her arm only to flicker out and lash the target dummy. That waltz would turn into a pirouette, spinning out of reach of the attack only Corrin could see, before the sword once more whipped out to strike the torso of the straw figure.

There were more moves of which she was sure existed but her eyes were not adapted to fighting at such high speeds. She could appreciate the fluidity of each attack, however, and the subtlety each attack used. Corrin, in particular, was a fan of subtle movements; one would not guess so from her attacks. Each flip or dance move was always accompanied by the cloak she wore drifting in front of her attacks, disguising a dodge for a counter. And if the opponent ever saw the ruse for what it was, her tactics could change in an instant.

If they picked up on the sword beneath the cloak after a waltz-step dodge, they would eventually learn to expect an attack, at which point Corrin would change the direction of the attack altogether, or simply not follow through to throw an attacker off. Such simple tactics as changing the direction of an attack had proven almost fatal for the enemy straw target – even against her combat instructor Gunter it seemed to surprise him and secure victory from time to time.

The one thing that truly amazed – and irritated, if honesty was key here – Camilla was Corrin’s disregard for personal safety. The basest of examples being right now, where she trained bare-foot in the snow, shivering and freezing in a pair of trousers and a simple cotton hosen. Yet her cloak was wrapped around her shoulders as it always was, and her body, despite freezing, refused to stop moving.

Xander had watched one of her extreme training sessions once, and while flabbergasted with her movements, he made notes she couldn’t – like the placement of her moves, the dodges and their timing, what weapons the imaginary attackers were using based on the distance she dodged. He was a more adept sword user than she, able to pick up on things her untrained eyes could not.

Speaking of Xander, the man had taken time out of his day to watch Corrin train in the snow; something about wanting to see what she would do in such conditions when he, himself, would not brave winter’s grasp. Leo was next to her, having wanted to see what the commotion was, and Felicia and Flora, both acting as Corrin’s maids, felt obliged to watch over her.

“Milady’s movements are quite the sight.” There was awe to Felicia’s voice, a sound not akin to a child watching a traveling magician perform tricks for a crowd. That is what Corrin may as well be right now, a charlatan flashing tricks before a group of wondering children.

Xander chuckled, a sound that brought more frozen mist from his mouth. “Indeed. Sister seems especially concerned with training this evening.” A lull in noise indicated Corrin was focusing on dodging the invisible attackers’ blows, and so provided the siblings and retainers a chance to speak.

Flora had seen this dance often enough to not be in awe of her lady’s movements, unlike her sister – of which had just started to join the daily training sessions. To be honest, Felicia had not wanted to witness such training before, her duties having an impact on her free time anyway. Until Gunter demanded she leave kitchen duty to those more suited – and those less accident prone – thus finding herself in the predicament of not having much else to do. So, at her sister’s suggestion, she came to watch the training her lady embroiled herself in.

Flora was concerned with other things than her lady’s fluid movements. “Lady Camilla, are you cold?”

“Ah!” In honesty she’d not expected anyone to pick it up, but then again, she wasn’t exactly subtle about it either. The fact that neither of her siblings had expressed concern with her lack of resistance to cold was disheartening, but to be fair Corrin was quite the sight when she dove headfirst into training. “A little, yes, but I’ve attended these enough to know she’ll be done soon.”

Out of the corner of Flora’s eye she could see Elise round up on them, cheery as always and a skip in her step. She briefly had to wonder what Elise was doing here, but instead brushed off the stray thoughts to focus on her lady’s dwindling movements – true to Camilla’s words, the ‘battle’ imagined in Corrin’s head was winding to a close. After six hours of constant training, switching between attacking, defending and dodging, her lady Corrin had finally begun to tire out. While her endurance still amazed Flora, there was nothing much else that did. She found with an inward sigh that the only thing that did amaze her about her lady was how much she could throw herself into things and come out with a small grin of satisfaction – no matter the state she exited her chore she’d always grin a grin that spoke of satisfaction through hard work. Again, it reaffirmed her decision to cease her petty hatred of the princess.

The princess’ siblings, however, were another story altogether. Leo, while Flora dwelled on her lady’s battle coming to an end, watched Corrin finish her ‘battle’ with a flourish of her sword – with his eyes watching closely, he could imagine the blade gliding through the throat of an armoured spearman, then watched as Corrin dipped below a swordsman’s swing only to backflip, the sword having been placed in such a way that would strike his face as the flip ended.

Once the flip ended and the foes were slain, Corrin’s sword was sheathed in a movement hinting years of practice and dedication.

Alas, the air was too cold for anyone to get another word out, snow falling faster now, so a silent agreement was made to enter the castle-fort and dress in warmer attire.

Yet, despite Camilla’s protests, Corrin vehemently refused to wear shoes.

* * *

 

A month from her training session and Corrin wished she could go back to it. The dance was her favourite thing in the world; she could lose herself for literal hours, maybe days if she was determined, and not worry about anything or anyone – except maybe she’d allow herself to worry about her eating. No warrior became strong through starvation, after all, and that was a point Camilla brought up constantly whenever Corrin missed out on a meal.

Even if she never shared the food table with her siblings Camilla always knew everything about Corrin’s eating habits.

It disturbed and endeared her greatly in equal measure, and she believed either Gunter or Jakob was feeding her information.

A long gown, white of colour and silk of fabric, draped over Corrin’s form for the upcoming political meeting between Hans, her father and some other nobles of little note. The meeting’s whole purpose was Garon’s way of showing off the royal siblings to the nobles. A means of proving the bloodline of Nohrian rule was safe, should anything happen; and while Corrin herself was sure that her father had different reasons than explained for making her and her siblings dress as though a ball was to occur, she kept her mouth shut and her back straight.

It was never a good idea to talk back to her father – and after the scars and lashings for ‘disrespect’ and ‘dissention’ she’d eventually stopped questioning anything he did or said. Ulterior motives or not, she was a bird in a cage, and her owner hadn’t even bothered to gild her cage to make it bearable. She didn’t eat with the other royals, barred for being a ‘disturbance’. Instead, she was forced to eat with the servants – with the food, in her opinion, not being all that bad – and sleep in a tower with guards ordered not to let her leave for any reason other than training, eating, or summons from her father.

Gunter did manage to wriggle in some time to train her in combat tactics and such, and Jakob had managed to smuggle in a piano to practice on – that was all the leeway she’d be granted.

Felicia and Flora, being her retainers and servants, were expected to wait on her all day every day, and while she despised her father for limiting her independence, she couldn’t hate her two maids for it. Flora, to her left, smoothed down any ruffles and crinkles in her sleeves, while Felicia deemed necessary to comb her hair in a way that showed her ears.

Her _pointed_ ears.

While red eyes were a thing that could be explained away with some old genetic mishap some fifty generations back or so, and her uncovered feet could be covered with her long gown and a pair of barely-there sandals, her ears could not be explained away so easily. They had been unnoticeable at first, for as a child they were rounded and shapely. _Normal_. Now, as her teenage years set in, they were pointed, animalistic. The same went for her teeth – but, again, covering those was a simple ordeal of keeping her facial expressions limited to a close-mouthed smile or a frown.

She lifted her right hand, the left being clothed in a grey glove of what felt like velvet, and gently stopped Felicia’s brushing. “Felicia, you know I don’t-”

She couldn’t even get her sentence completed before the clumsy maid seemed to mentally backpedal. “A-Ah! Sorry milady! I just…don’t see them all that much so I…forgot about them.”

Corrin, in response, smiled – close-mouthed, noble, regal. Befitting of the dove disallowed of spreading its wings. _Empty_.  “Don’t worry about it. Just…” There was silence as the doors opened, Felicia hastily brushing whitened hair over pointed ears, before their unexpected visitor waltzed in.

“Sister! Are you in here!?”

Felicia had just finished with the brushing of her hair and slipped on the other glove to her hand before a head peaked itself around the curtain that separated the rest of her room from her changing quarters. Flora bowed her head slightly at the visitor. “Lady Elise.”

The girl’s smile seemed to shrink at the cold tone Corrin’s retainer often had, before jumping back up to an ear-to-ear grin when Corrin turned around and faced her. She did not need to gush over how the outfit made Corrin look – they both knew this farce of a ball was for them to be shown off and paraded about, their personal feelings in any matters to be brought up tonight irrelevant.

“Elise.” Corrin smiled in response to her sister’s barely restrained enthusiasm, even if they both knew such a night warranted anything but. “What brings you here?”

The girl’s smile, somehow, grew twofold and Corrin was seriously worried it would legitimately split her face in two. “I came to see my favouritest sibling of course!”

“Indeed?”

Elise nodded her head so rapidly it looked painful, but the smile had never once vanished from her face so Corrin left it be. To add words to the nodding her sister’s voice seemed to reach an octave that only famous opera singers had managed with great practice and training. “Yeah! I know I say it to the others a lot but I _really_ mean it with you!”

Corrin opened her arms and allowed the excitable young girl to practically fling herself into Corrin’s midsection, the arms snaking around her and locking into place crushing her ribs with a cracking sound almost instantly. Regardless of any pain she may have been feeling, however, she recognised it as a small price to pay for keeping Elise happy.

Her two retainers bowed and left the room with nary a word, Corrin nodding to each of them in turn as they closed her bedroom’s door and waited just outside – most likely to guard against anyone interrupting the moment.

And all at once they both _changed_.

As soon as the door’s soft click rang out through the room Elise collapsed into Corrin’s arms, almost sobbing as tears spilled out and stained her white gown. It was of little consequence and they both knew that, with Corrin’s wardrobe containing at least ten of everything she wore. Somehow the blonde girl had managed to press her face so far into Corrin’s chest she feared her heart would be smashed into.

In response Corrin laid her head against the crown of her dearest sister, feeling the form beneath her shake with sobs and fear. Fear, she knew, of the upcoming ‘ball’, of the nobles and their entitlement to everything they saw. Many a servant-girl had either been fired or executed for fighting against lords and ladies that saw something they wanted. Many a maid had been reprimanded for doing little more than talk back to the lords and ladies whenever they asked for something that was simply beyond their power to give.

Elise had seen many different things occur within the halls of this Fortress; had witnessed many things normal people her age would never even have the wildest dreams of seeing. Corrin had seen more than her, however, and with the rest of her siblings blinding themselves to the happenings at the many different ‘parties’ her father threw, Corrin was the only one she could approach about this.

The only one who saw more than she did. The only one she loved more than anything in the world.

“Nothing will happen, Elise.” The sobs withered but Corrin could feel the tenseness of her sister’s muscles. “You need to calm down. _Nothing will happen, Elise.”_

“H-Hans is here.”

Hans the criminal, he who kills for fun and little other reason. He who steals and lies, he who takes and never gives. Hans, the criminal, he who her brother saw to it was arrested. Hans the criminal, retainer of her father’s.

Her blood both boiled and ran cold at even thinking of him being within ‘sharing-the-same-oxygen’ distance as Elise.

Corrin ran her hand through her sister’s hair, slightly marvelled at the softness, before bringing herself back down to the situation at hand. She encircled her hands around Elise’s waist to bring her even closer, and rested her cheek upon her sister’s crown once more. “You will be fine; he won’t even see you.” There was more silence, Elise squeezing even harder and Corrin’s red eye glowing dangerously as she looked at her sister. Elise couldn’t see the state her elder sister was in but she could feel the grumbling growl that rose from her sister’s chest as the next words were spoken. “ _I’ll kill him if he even thinks about looking your way.”_

She’d feel upset at the thought of Corrin taking a life for her in any other setting, but here, where her other siblings were not there to scrutinise her every action and it was just her and Corrin, Elise could feel herself smiling into Corrin’s chest at the words. There was nothing corrin wouldn’t do for her dearest sibling, _nothing_ , and Elise loved her more and more with each passing day. She had since she was but a small baby.

Corrin had been there to read her stories or train with her, to teach her about the different cultures of the world, to comfort her when she was sad and make her smile and giggle whenever she could. Corrin was more a mother to her than her own mother used to be. It was, however, more than eyebrow raising if she’d suddenly ran around calling Corrin her mother; especially with Corrin’s young age and some of the fresher-faced lords and ladies not knowing of their sibling relationship.

In private, however, with no one around, they could be the people they wanted to be; her, a daughter terrified of the world around her, seeking comfort in her mother’s arms and protective words. Corrin, a mother, seeking to utterly _destroy_ anyone that made Elise sad, and not for the first time did she wish she was, in fact, Elise’s mother. At least they could stop hiding their feelings from the public. But no, it had to stay this way; Corrin was too young to convincingly pass as anyone’s mother, lest eyebrows be raised and extremely uncomfortable questions be asked.

If only that were all they faced in terms of opposition. Garon would never have it – Corrin would never be able to adopt her sister as her daughter. For one, it was unheard of; siblings adopting each other with parental statuses was something never even thought of before much less heard of. Two, they were threatened with the all-too-real promise of disownment – their own siblings would shun them and their own father would cast them out. They would have each other, but a big part of Elise’s happiness was her relationship with her siblings – even Camilla, as strained as that was.

Alas, they were stuck here – Corrin specifically, but Elise chose to stay simply because…well…Corrin was here.

“I’m scared, Corrin. I don’t want to…D-Don’t want to…”

She felt Corrin freeze but had no time to think on what she’d impulsively whispered, before Corrin’s hold tightened on her even more than it already was.

“I know, Elise.” There was silence, before a knocking on the door of her room alerted her to her retainers’ voices warning her that the ‘ball’ was to start any minute now. Looking down, she needed to change her dress.

The girl, however, showed no signs of releasing her, and sighing Corrin ran a hand through her sister’s hair once more – she was mentally preparing for the lashings she’d get later on for ‘showing up’ her father. For embarrassing him. Speaking of…she could not allow Elise to suffer too – Garon was not above hurting her, either. Corrin would never allow that. Never.

It was with great reluctance Elise left her room that day, making it to the party just in time as she was announced by her father – she’d not had a thought of what would happen to her sister if Corrin was late, too busy keeping her cheery face painted on as Camilla fawned over how cute she was, and genuinely enjoying herself as her own retainers sought to make the party as interesting as possible.

Corrin would rather she never find out at all, and with a sigh of resignation and a wave for her two retainers to follow, she made it to the party fifteen minutes later than she should have.

The beatings she got were worth it if Elise could enjoy herself. Even if, for the next week, movement was stiff and agonising she’d suffer it.

Corrin would suffer anything for Elise.

His father was in an oddly joyous mood, and Xander seemed to have the appropriate response to such joy – he stood exactly ten paces from the door leading to the throne room and genuinely looked ready to bolt, princely action or not. He didn’t seem to care, and now his only concern was warning the rest of his siblings as they walked of such an occasion.

Elise, the first to enter, beamed at Xander before nodding with a slight shrink in smile once she was told of her father’s mood, while Leo walked in next and didn’t even seem phased – Xander saw the hand that held his ever-present book clench so hard the bindings threatened to break. Camilla seemed worried for a minute but waved him off and took a space next to Elise, waiting for Corrin to arrive.

Garon, it would seem, had other plans. “Children! It’s good to see you all here!”

At once the royal siblings tensed until Elise could feel her legs get wobbly and Leo could feel his arms tighten to the point of pain. Xander seemed impassive, but one could see his body shift ever-so-slightly towards the exit to the room, legs tense and prepared to bolt it. Camilla ceased smiling, her hands balling into fists at regular intervals to stave off any worry she might feel.

None were as brave as Xander in their family – except maybe Corrin, but she wasn’t here yet – and so the siblings relied on him in their hour of dire need. “Father, may I ask what this is about?”

“Indeed!” He seemed damn near _jovial_ , and that was something that really set Xander’s heart beating. His father was only jovial for two reasons historically. One, he was about to inflict the death sentence on an enemy, or something torturous.

Two, he was going to say something that involved Corrin. _Never_ in a good way, either.

“I have decided that, after all the training my _daughter’s_ been putting herself through-” His vitriol of the word ‘daughter’ was not lost to the siblings, and Elise even deigned it that big an offense to her that she frowned, if momentarily “-she be given a test.”

“A test, father?” Leo’s note of curiosity wasn’t very well hidden, but at this point Garon wouldn’t have cared. “Of what kind?”

Words did not come before the sound of unhurried bare feet echoed throughout the chamber, followed by two Nohrian knights in full plate, lances at the ready and what looked like six prisoners from differing places. One, a Hoshidan shinobi – it wasn’t even a guess, either. The man’s outfit screamed ‘Hoshidan ninja’, and yet the scarf around his face screamed ‘impractical’. Another looked to be a tribeswoman from one of the elemental tribes dotting the world. Due to her lack of clothing compared to the other one and not a shiver to be seen, the woman was either from the Flame Tribe to the North of Hoshido, or the now-conquered Ice Tribe.

The home of which Flora and Felicia, Corrin’s two most loyal retainers (aside from Jakob, but she was convinced there was something wrong with him) had been dragged from against their will.

The last four confused him – they were nought but common soldiers, and served no purpose being their prisoners, but he’d let it go for now; as of this moment, his sister’s appearance took priority.

She looked, for all intents and purposes, dead to the world. Her eyes held the blankness in them that had been known to be hers since childhood, with her hands from fingertips upwards bandaged – whether or not those bandages extended past her forearms was something Camilla couldn’t see from her position, and in honesty it scared her more knowing she couldn’t see the full extent of the injury that had to be so grievous to warrant bandages as tight and sterile-looking. Her outfit was her usual combat garb, the blue cloak fluttering behind her gently and bringing the attention of her father who, if he had somehow not heard her approach, certainly knew she was there now.

His eyes flashed dangerously and, for a moment, Elise hated the man.

Once close enough to the shallow steps that led to the throne Garon occupied, Corrin turned and ordered the guards with her to force the prisoners on their knees; what Xander noted was how the guards didn’t even hesitate. One of them shoved their prisoner to the ground with particular zeal.

Throughout his life he’s seen injustices committed by both sides – Nohr, mainly, but Hoshido had proven to be less of a victim than he’d once seen them as – and worse still seen atrocities committed to his own siblings. Camilla was broken by her father’s need for her to become a ‘perfect’ daughter, and as he moulded her a mental illness he could only describe as ‘separation issues’ developed. Fortunately, it seemed to be something Camilla herself noticed; but there were flashes of the illness taking root sometimes, especially in Corrin and Elise’s case.

Leo felt this encompassing need to be the best mage ever seen, studying book after book of magical nonsense until he passed out or was ordered to eat and sleep regularly; usually it was either Corrin or Camilla that ordered his rest, but sometimes Xander himself had felt the need to step in and force the youngest to rest lest he collapse from more than sheer exhaustion.

Elise, from birth, had been ignored by her father save for fleeting glances of what could only be described as ‘apathy’. Not once did he shower her with praise and, yet, the girl sought his attention still. She felt the man, her blood relative, was just too busy to shower her with the love she craved. Eventually, Xander noted bemusedly, she’d stopped. One day nearing her seventh birthday she’d just stopped caring what her father felt for her or what he did. She seemed attached to either Camilla and, more often than not, Corrin. It was borderline unhealthy but, then again, their family dynamic was never healthy to begin with.

With a stiffened limping step that belied nothing of her emotional state, Corrin approached the throne on which her father sat. he looked as blank as she did, though with not quite the control. It was like he slipped on an opaque mask, his face barely visible but there.

Corrin had slipped on the most hardened mask he’d seen, and Xander bemoaned the loss of his sister’s smiles and cheer. It seemed to have happened somewhere near the winter ball two years ago, but the reason was one that was lost on him.

“I have brought the requested prisoners, father.” Her voice was disconcertingly empty, hollow – a chirp a bird made before realising it would never leave the cage that was gilded for it. After a moment of silence, from which not even breathing could be heard, Corrin questioned. “What would you have me do with them?”

Garon clapped, his face still stony but amusement visible behind his thick beard. Stood behind him she could see Iago, the snake of an advisor her father had come to rely on. She dared not voice these thoughts even in her own mind.

 “You are to kill the prisoners-” As though he expected some form of backtalk or protest, he continued in what could only be described as ‘condescension’. “But I understand you like challenges, _daughter_.”

Xander eyed his father with well hidden contempt, before side-eyeing his sister warily. Something had snapped in her mind over the last year, he knew it had. Perhaps to do with the constant belittling their father showed her, or perhaps to do with the way she’d been training herself into the ground recently.

It scared even him, sometimes, when he witnessed just how far she’d go in training to prove her capability with a sword.

It scared him even more to think it had something to do with the bandages she’d been wearing over her limbs for the past month. Camilla, for all her love and attentive nature, was not the most perceptive. She’d only just spotted them, whereas he’d seen her wearing them for four or five weeks now. He had no doubt Elise probably missed the bandages completely, chalking it up to a style choice, or just something her innocent mind could not yet grasp. Leo just didn’t seem to care but if one looked past his smugness, past his apparent disdain for his sister, one could see worry.

She didn’t retort to that, as he expected she would – she’d usually make some witty comment, some backhanded ‘game’ of insults, and even their father noticed the lack of response. It didn’t seem to concern him though. Instead his sister stood, eyeing the prisoners as they were given their weapons back, back stiffened and straight, eyes impassively narrowed in preparation for the upcoming fight.

While the prisoners checked their weapons to ensure they were not tampered with, Corrin gave herself a once over. Cloak was fastened, bronze sword was tied to her hip instead of sheathed within a scabbard – scabbards provided no advantage to her when fighting aside from preventing dirt staining her blade, so she instead tied them to her side.

As she saw the prisoners ready their weapons, she, too, ‘unsheathed’ her blade and took her stance. As no words were spoken, she decided to show her prisoners courtesy.

“I am Corrin Von Krakenburg, daughter of King Garon, and your opponent.” As the Hoshidan prisoners exchanged glances of confusion, Corrin bowed – she missed the recognition in the ninja’s eye when he heard her name.

There was silence before Leo’s somewhat-angry voice echoed. He loved his sister, but sometimes he realised that being locked in that Fortress had done more harm than good. She knew not Hoshidan customs, and that they wouldn’t introduce themselves without reason.

Being prisoners meant they likely saw no reason, but he wasn’t having his sister’s courtesy thrown back in her face. He may think a lot about her, most it unflattering, but he recognised a polite turnabout when he saw one.

“It Is polite to introduce oneself when engaging in a duel, _Hoshidans_.”

The Flame Tribe female seemed to have had enough of whatever pleasantries had been shown. “I’m Rinkah, Flame Tribe…and this ain’t a duel!” Her voice echoed through the grandiose throne room, catching even Garon’s attention for but a fleeting second. “This is no duel at all!”

“Indeed.” The voice of the ninja sounded out, the murmurs of the Hoshidan foot-soldiers behind him drowned out by his words. “I am known as Kaze, Ninja and retainer of the Hoshidan Royal Family.” He bowed to Corrin, not as low as she did, but enough to keep his eyes on her. She didn’t make a move towards him as he did so, which set him at ease slightly. “I must agree with Rinkah-san here. This is a six-versus-one situation.”

Xander nodded his head in agreement, and Elise – from the corner of his eye – could be seen biting her nails in what must have been worry for their sibling. But what could he do? Go against their father? Regardless of how you looked at this situation they were powerless; Corrin had agreed to the fight instantly, leaving no room for hesitation, and the prisoners only brought up these points to be polite…well, maybe they were being serious, but still.

“Then it’s a good job she has her retainers arrive just in time, no?” Footsteps followed the voice, and before anyone knew it, Gunter was at her side with his weapon drawn and eyes locked onto the group in front of him.

Shortly after, a panting yet battle-ready Jakob slid into place, his outfit immaculate. His daggers – for, in truth, they resembled over-large butcher’s knives than anything else – in hand, a glare directed towards the older retainer. “Must you move so fast, old man!?”

“I believe this constitutes as ‘fair’?” Garon’s bemused voice sounded out, and with no objections he shouted the words Rinkah had been dying to hear since she was locked here, the words that had Jakob harden his glare into impassivity. The words that had Corrin tighten her grip on the weapon in her hands. The words that had Kaze’s mind on knocking out his lost princess and dragging her away from here.

“Then, begin!”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to say sorry for how long this took to come out - I was busy with real life, which sucks I know but...yeah...
> 
> So me and an author on here, RighteousMaximus have been talking - and we both came to a conclusion that this story needs a rarepair; mainly because I'm tired of seeing the same pairings over and over again, and I can only assume that's the same for him. 
> 
> So, I'd like for the readers to decide if they feel like it - while the story is relatively young and in its infancy, I need this hashed out so I can plan for future chapters to follow a theme.
> 
> so, if you would, could you guys leave comments on the pairing you want to see? Only yuri, please; I suck at hetero relationships. 
> 
> I've already got some examples of some of the rarepairs I'd be willing to do, but I'm an unimaginative tool so...if you guys could leave comments with the pairing you want to see, it would be appreciated. 
> 
> Corrin x Charlotte  
> Corrin x Beruka  
> Corrin x Rinkah  
> Corrin x Kagero  
> Corrin x Sakura  
> Corrin x Flora
> 
> These are just some examples of the rarepairs I'm going for. as long as it isn't Azura, Elise, Camilla or Hinoka, I'll consider everything. 
> 
> Without further delay, here's the chapter.

The atmosphere in the usually chilly room felt colder than usual, gooseflesh rising on Camilla’s arms – she hated how susceptible to the cold she was, and not for the first time did she wish to have her younger sister’s resistance to the cold. Her maids-cum-retainers seemed to fair all the better in the frigid temperatures as much as Corrin herself did, and it set the oldest princess envious. Rubbing warmth into the bare nakedness of her arms, however, proved futile, and eventually she just gave up and shivered.

Looking at the rest of her little group, it was clear they all felt the same as she. Xander’s face was set in that imperviously stoic mask of his, his lips slightly curled down to bely his dislike of this situation they found themselves in. He appeared no worse for the cold, but them again he was decked in rich satins and fine leathers, with thick metal plating serving to keep heat both out and in. Leo faired better than she did, too, but only marginally. He’d used some rather nifty magic to heat his body up, but the tome seemed to be wearing thin and its pages running fewer each day she saw it, so she’d not trouble the youngest with thoughts of wasting such an invaluable magic tome. Elise faired almost as bad she did, the only thing keeping her from bursting into shivers as Camilla was, were the pair of gloves encasing her hands – of which, of course, were pressed to her face to preserve heat.

Castle Krakenburg was not usually this chilly, but she did recall her father saying that Iago was attempting to create some sort of Ice Golem; like the Stoneborn used for mining, to brave the Northern fronts as they did the Southern. Perhaps the buzzard was still trying? The chill did feel unnatural, but it seemed that none of the Hoshidan prisoners, nor her sister or her retainers, noticed all that much.

The cold, however, was neither here nor there. It was infinitely less important than her little darling Corrin facing off against six Hoshidans in something akin to a battle to the death. Prisoners, no less, that had nearly spat on her sister’s goodwill to declare it a duel, instead of a drawn-out execution. Her own retainer, Beruka, stood off to the side watching the battle with her usual blank stare, but with an interest shown that she’d not seen of her retainer in all of her years of service. There was a glint in those dead eyes as they followed Corrin’s movements, a shine she’d seen in Corrin’s maid, Flora; a light that shone to bathe the person in their sights. In essence, Beruka, in just a few short minutes, had been intrigued by Corrin’s attitude, movements, and courtesy.

After all, Camilla herself would _never_ bow to an enemy – much less a _Hoshidan_. She’d rather hack them up into little pieces before they even dared lift a sword against her sister.

Perhaps that difference caught her retainer’s eye? Maybe something to do with Corrin’s unique personality? A mixture of Xander and Camilla, she was often described as, a cold detachment that froze people in place yet a warmth and love for siblings seen in no one else. Save for maybe Camilla.

“Hmm…” Of course, her errant thoughts did little to avert her gaze from the fight, but thoughts as these did not come out of nowhere. They were born of years of growing, not just spontaneous.

Alas, she had bigger things to worry about.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

“Gunter, take two soldiers.”

The old retainer barely blinked at the command to leave his liege alone in a fight, his tactical mind already pulling up the quickest and easiest way to end the battle so he could return to his lady’s side. There was no grandstanding allowed here, with his liege’s life on the line should he fail. There was no spirited war cry he needed to give off to rally troops. This was a battle to the death, and he’d be damned if he left his liege alone for any longer than she required to finish off foes that would gladly take her head.

Because despite her attitude change over the years, despite the colder, more worn out visage she’d carried, she was still Corrin. She had a heart of gold and morals better than anyone in castle Krakenburg.

“As you command, milady.”

Before Jakob could say anything rude, ageist or what have you to the old man Gunter was off – perhaps reading the young man’s thoughts, he shot him a glare as he lured two soldiers away from their group.

“Stupid old fart.” While muttered, and doubtful it could be heard over the sound of Gunther’s shield colliding with one of the soldier’s swords, Corrin’s gaze averted away from Rinkah’s and Kaze’s in favour of locking eyes with him.

An apology, as automatic as it would have been, was on his lips before Kaze’s voice broke across the distance. “Rinkah and I shall take Lady Ka – Corrin.” He turned to the soldiers behind him, both of them gathering the situation quickly and nodding once before charging Jakob.

Jakob swore, quiet yet audible, before flicking his wrist to produce a dagger the size of a skinning knife. Before charging at the two Hoshidans, his lady’s voice echoed. “Jakob, take them somewhere else. A duel is _not_ to be interrupted.” Her voice brooked for no argument on his part, an expectation to follow the orders given more than anything, but the butler still stared for a second, trying to think of something.

He thought better of it, thought to stay by his lady’s side – his lady’s side that Gunter so willingly abandoned in favour of killing two Hoshidan soldiers. As quick as the thought came, though, it left; he, instead of voicing his concern for Corrin and his disdain for Gunter, decided to simply bow to his lady and move away.

The two Hoshidans decided it would better serve them to follow the man, not even sparing the princess a glance as she moved aside to allow them to follow. To the Hoshidans it was strange, a Nohrian with honour that valued chivalry more than the famed Knight-prince Xander himself did. It was strange to them, but the Nohrians themselves knew it was something to be proud of. Elise had cherished that part of her sister more than anyone else, Xander too proud to admit her code of chivalry outweighed his own, and Leo was more intrigued by her specific code than anything else, and Camilla was more worried about her sister’s safety than being proud. If she had her way her sister wouldn’t even have bowed to those Hoshidans before rushing them and hacking them into pieces – but alas, her sister’s heart was far too kind for the world they lived and, and unfortunately Camilla had a feeling that it would get taken advantage of sooner or later.

She’d rather it never happened and her sister stayed the soft and kind girl she was, despite her frigidly blank face and voice, but there was some niggling at the back of her mind that told her it would happen whether sooner or later, and it would affect the sheltered princess in ways that would change everything about her. That could just be paranoia talking, but she ushered over Beruka to talk to her about it while Corrin turned to face the other two Hoshidans that remained.

“Lady Corrin.” Kaze’s voice rang out, drawing her eyes away from them both in favour of focusing on Rinkah. “Let us begin this fight.”

Rinkah, possibly seeing the chance to land an attack that may prove to be fatal should it land, charged the woman as her gaze was drawn away; Kaze working as a distraction – the Fire Tribe Heiress seemed to think it meant Corrin valued her as a weaker target, therefore not as big a threat. It was fine with her, however. Any way to take Nohrians out was a way she’d take. And to take out a princess at that…she charged, the war cry she’d wanted to release stuck in her throat as her mind warned her against alerting the enemy.

She’d crush the princess’ head like a walnut, brain matter and pieces of skull splattering the area; hopefully getting on some of the surrounding nobles, disturbing or horrifying them enough for them to make an escape. While most Hoshidans believed that to die in battle was a glory one could achieve nowhere else, the Fire Tribe held no such beliefs. As long as the enemy died and they lived to tell the tale, anything was allowed.

Kaze, acting as the wiling distraction, seemed to know of her plan – or, in the very least, her way of thinking. Shinobi were trained to know both enemy and ally, after all.

With Kaze drawing Corrin’s eyes from her, Rinkah closed the gap fairly quickly; despite her somewhat small size and rippled physique, she moved fairly quickly and before anyone knew it, her weapon was mid-swing towards the head of the princess.

And just before it hit, it was stopped cold.

Well, not exactly the weapon itself, but more of Rinkah couldn’t move her arm any more than she had, so the swing was stopped. It still carried momentum, so when her hand went slack from a searing pain in her right arm the hammer found itself lodged deep within the stone ground about ten or so metres away. A vast spiderweb of cracks surrounded the head of the hammer, crawling out ever-so-slowly and upheaving some of the concrete slabs beneath their feet.

It mattered little, even as cracking sounds of broken slabs filled the room. Rinkah’s own scream of pain sounded it out, and before long the bronze sword was slid cleanly from her arm; blood and some ribbons of muscle, with a fragment of bone, slipping to the ground in a cascade of blood. She could faintly see the princess stagger backwards as she attempted to avoid the three shuriken that Kaze had thrown, dodging two with her jerked movement, but the third striking deep within her thigh, where the plating covering her legs was thinnest. The sword had slid through her arm cleanly and with a good healer and day’s rest she’d have it back in working order, but Rinkah’s mind was clouded in the pain of having a bronze blade, chipped from years of use, pierce through muscle, sinew and scrape across bone, only to reverse its trip a second later.  

She’d retain full use of her arm, sure, but first she needed to survive – an endeavour looking all the more impossible as the seconds ticked by. She could faintly hear something akin to shouting, probably her name, but she paid Kaze no mind. She needed to stop the bleeding, and to do that she needed to make a tourniquet. With little effort she’d unwrapped the top-most bandages that covered her breasts, revealing a lot more cleavage than she would have liked, but it was far too inconsequential in the grand scheme of things for her to care.

While the Tribe member created a makeshift tourniquet, Corrin was having trouble. That Fire Tribe member had done what any person in her position would do, and take advantage of a situation that may spell death if they did not win; she could see that Jakob and Gunter had finished with their opponents, but they knew to stay back. The Tribe woman was of no issue now that she was temporarily crippled, and the ninja was her only true threat now.

He was fast, agile, strong; a good jack of all trades, but missing a finesse only Corrin could obtain – and yet it meant nothing, for she could gain no upper hand. She’d trained for years to take on many opponents at once, both fast and slow, strong and weak. Corrin had worked herself into the ground with the expectation that she’d simply outmanoeuvre and out-speed her opponents, if her finesse and sheer skill meant nothing. And now here she fought a ninja of Hoshido that was as fast as she, herself, was. As strong as she was, too, older yet still and wiser even more. She’d never seen battle before today, and while the blood she’d spilled unnerved her greatly she’d had the state of mind to think on it later once the battle was done.

This man, however, had seen many battles, had fought many skirmishes against Nohrian soldiers; and while she was certain she was pushing him back at first, he’d quickly seen through her feints and pirouettes, her sidesteps and counters. Now it was just attrition; who fell first? The ninja with speed and experience, of the princess with agility and a tactical mind?

Raising her bronze sword to block an attack from the ninja with one of those ‘koo-neye’ she’d heard of, Corrin decided that defensive play was doing her no favours against an attacking speedster like Kaze. So, she improvised; she felt the best defence, in this situation, was a good offense. The diamond-shaped dagger pressed forward again, only this time she allowed it to sink into her right shoulder; the pain itself almost made her drop her weapon, but instead she switched it to the left hand. With a swipe almost casual as Kaze tried to remove his dagger, the bronze blade of her chipped sword sliced through the air.

Unfortunately, Kaze had seen the attack coming not a second too late, dipping his head to avoid the weapon – in frustration, however small, Corrin lifted her knee and smashed it into his nose. There was a crack that echoed throughout the hall, and all at once she knew she’d broken his nose – the blood seeping through his hands as he attempted to step the flow told her that. It wasn’t, however, a fair trade – he’d all but ruined her right arm for the moment, and she’d only broken a nose? He was on the ground weakened, weapon-less…but she’d not stoop to their levels.

She had a code, she’d stick to it or die trying – that was, after all, the Way of the Knight that Xander liked to preach about so much. It was the way of Nohrians; she knew she was being naïve to believe the soldiers of her beloved country would offer mercy to the enemy they’ve been at war with, but Corrin was better than that; better than _them_. She was, after all, third in line to the throne of Nohr.

As a princess she had to set an example. Elise was watching as well, so that may have been what inspired her bout of mercy, and she’d be damned it Elise watched her take any lives. Her dearest Elise was never going to see a drop of blood if she could help it, but unfortunately, she’d ruined such a notion twice today – looking down at the man clutching his nose with one hand, watching her warily, she bemusedly sighed. Three times today she’d shown Elise something she wanted to keep her far away from; combat, and its horrors.

Lowering her blade and twirling it so that the flat of the blade replaced the chipped and now crimson-coated edge, she lifted her arms and smashed it against the man’s knee, bringing him down with a grunt.

She idly noticed Jakob and Gunter standing off to the side while Camilla and her own retainer seemed to have just finished up whatever conversation it was they were having. As guards forced Rinkah to her knees next to Kaze, some others went about clearing out the corpses, some being lifted gently, others hauled over shoulders like a prize boar a hunter had killed.

It heartened her to know not all Nohrians disrespected the dead – as Hoshido seemed to think they did, anyway. Hoshidans hated the dark magic that had flowed through Nohr’s veins, the lifeblood of every accomplished dark mage out there. The lifeblood of her brother Leo, of her butler Jakob, even of the snake Iago. Even, to an extent, herself; she’d always loved the feel of ice magic, of the cold, and of water running over her fingers. She definitely had some affinity for water magic, she mused, but there was nothing to say she could perform it herself; an affinity for something didn’t always mean the ability to cast said magic.

It didn’t matter at the moment; her lack of magic had not impeded her thus far, and she doubted it would for many years to come. If it did, however, impede her progression in life she always had her beloved baby brother Leo – oh how he hated that title she’d given him.

“Corrin; my _daughter_ , you have fought well.” If one disregarded the practical poison he spat when he spoke to her, the words could almost be interpreted as kind, as those of a man congratulating his daughter. But there was always more with Garon, he’d never congratulated her for anything. “You have brought the Hoshidans to their knees, as a true Nohrian should!”

She felt eyes burning into her, and she knew everyone was staring at her in expectation – of what, she knew not, but then again, he’d just admitted she acted as a true Nohrian does. This was not lost on her. She’d been sheltered all her life, only just recently leaving the citadel known as her home, and already she’d exceeded whatever expectation he had of her and become a true Nohrian in his eyes. She could hear the female Hoshidan scoff and could practically feel as Kaze rolled his eyes, but she didn’t care for their opinions.

Her father had acknowledged her deeds, her efforts few as they may be, with nothing but a sentence and a glare; he hated her for some reason, but he knew she was his daughter no matter his feelings on the matter and he knew he had to acknowledge anything she did that may bring pride to Nohr.

Maybe he could one day love her as he does her siblings.

She would have curtsied had her shoulder not been seeping a slow trickle of blood and her thigh not impeding movement – that shuriken thrown had dug deep into the muscle, thankfully no further, but it was painful and impeding regardless. Instead of the more respectful actions she would have shown had she not been in pain and leaking blood onto the floor, she simply bowed her head. “Thank you, father.”

“Now kill them.”

What?

Her? _Kill_ them? They were weakened, weapons thrown far to the sides of the throne room. They were kneeling with chins high and glares being fired at the king. They were both essentially crippled – that Rinkah lady more so than Kaze, but still. She herself was in no position to make the kill clean, her sword arm useless right now until Jakob healed it later on.

At once, she declined; but not in the way he was thinking she would. He’d expected her to still be soft, that castle he’d locked her in acting as a buffer for the outside world. He’d known her to be naïve at one point, sure, but something had changed – Garon didn’t know whether or not to like the change. Despite everything, though, she was his daughter and he was king Garon Von Krakenburg, ruler of Nohr and her father – as loathe as he was to admit it, he had duties that extended past those of a simple king.

“Father, I refuse.” Before Garon could get a word in she continued. “May I approach you to explain why in privacy, father?”

Xander’s eyebrows rose above his hairline and Leo seemed to slip the mask of impassivity for a moment to show shock. Elise seemed curious, yet still retaining her chipper mood – despite Corrin’s injuries, of which Corrin knew Elise had seen. She’d get chewed out for her recklessness later by Xander, of course, but she could easily ignore him as she always did. Elise, however, would rant and rage for a solid ten minutes, exclaiming baseless things like “You shouldn’t risk your life like that!” or “You don’t care enough to keep yourself safe!”.

She’d huff and puff as Corrin felt even more guilty than she already was, and then they’d hug and Elise would cry as Corrin stood there, feeling tiny hands beat her chest in frustrated anger and sadness – a small stab to the shoulder was nothing for anyone to be upset about, she knew, but Elise was her baby sister, and despite the fact that she’d not seen much of her family over the years, Elise was like a daughter to her.

And she’d made her worry, which was enough for Elise’s words to impact her more than any others’ words could.

Shaking her head mentally – to do so in real life at nothing seemed to be a good way to classify herself as insane – Corrin warded off those thoughts for later. She climbed the steps when Garon ushered her forth, and before long she was stood in front of him, eye to eye. The others wouldn’t be able to hear the conversation, of course; Garon’s throne was a little bit away from where her siblings stood and the prisoners kneeled; there was a reason, after all, that Garon rose his voice as he did when speaking to people.

“So?” at Corrin’s silence, Garon seemed to get a little mad – no doubt perceived as a stalling tactic, and yet Corrin spoke before he could get more enraged.

“Father, I do not wish to kill the prisoners.”

He waved a hand almost derisively, but she could see curiosity hidden beneath that mask he liked to employ. “I gathered, _child_ , and I expect an explanation.”

He’d expected some sort of angered look to cross his daughter’s brow, a crease to furrow her forehead, a sign she was upset at his diminutive wording towards her. She instead nodded. “Indeed; to put short, father, I do not wish to kill unarmed, crippled prisoners.” She Scowled then, a thin line on her face that dipped downwards and nestled into a bland frown – but a scowl nonetheless. “It would feel _tasteless_.”

Garon could sympathise with that; in the very least he understood how tasteless an easy and easily won battle could feel. How meaningless it would be if the people of the country he was conquering wouldn’t fight him every step of the way. It would be as a child stepping over a hill of ants – enjoyable for the victory, but the tastelessness of the act would nag him until he’d done something to incite resistances; after all, there was nothing better than watching a group proclaim they fight for the people do the same things he did when left to their own devices in a small region.

Garon would be the first, surprisingly to admit that he is not a kind, nice man – he’d changed over the years and allowed greed to cloud his vision, allowed his country’s needs to cloud his sight of the needs his children possessed. But Corrin was not his child, and even though he may not show it he dearly wished she was his blood – she’d be raised as a princess of Nohr, and possible queen were something to happen to Xander and Camilla, but he could not help feeling as though his defiance on the matter when Iago had brought his deity’s wishes regarding the girl would bring doom.

One did not cross a deity, after all.

So, how could be get rid of her to appease his god, while looking like a caring father than simply wanted best for his child, while also endearing himself to his other children when the loss of Corrin hit them? Iago had brought up the plan to use Ganglari in the event that Corrin was captured – being the lost princess of Hoshido there was a high chance that she’d get dragged back to the capital of the country, where the queen would greet her and host a staging to show off her daughter. The plan sounded more intriguing as time went on, and if there wasn’t an inherent issue with it he’d have given her the sword already.

How to get her captured? That Kaze ninja knew her from somewhere, and Garon did vaguely remember seeing another child – though older, undoubtedly – along with Sumeragi when the treaty was to be signed. If Kaze recognised who she was and that Rinkah woman was his subordinate of some sort then…if those two were let go…it would give them about four days to reach the endless chasm and about three more from there to reach the capital of Hoshido with a kicking and clawing Corrin.

Yes…

“Daughter; do with the prisoners what you will.” He could see her apprehension at his words, and despite himself he smiled slightly; if only her death wasn’t necessary. “But I feel that you need to be justly compensated for your troubles here today.” He eyed the blood dripping from her thigh and the hand holding her shoulder to stem the flow; it had tapered to nothing but a slight ooze of red now, and despite its small size it could get infected if not healed soon enough.

Standing up, he made his voice known throughout the throne room as he began walking off to the side – the guards there saluted him and opened the large door that led to the western wing of the castle. “The prisoners are left in your care to your discretion, daughter.” For once the word was not sneered, Xander could tell, and for once he was confused – what on earth had the two been talking about that warranted such a small change in their father? Garon’s eyes strayed to the kneeling Hoshidans, both looking shocked when he spoke next; Corrin simply bowed and thanked him, and when she was healed enough, he resolved to give her the Ganglari and set her on her way to Hoshido’s no-doubt waiting arms.

“After all; you did defeat them. Their lives are _yours_ now.”

With those words he left the room, silence permeating through the very bones of its inhabitants. Despite claims to the contrary, Corrin was indeed a fast thinker. As soon as those doors closed to span into action, heels dragging her over to her two retainers.

“Gunter, grab the ninja; you have experience with their kind, so it should be of little bother to you to deal with.” He simply bowed, her judgement on this situation that was practically thrust into her hands being the correct one, before he knelt and hauled the Kaze man to his feet.

Turning to Jakob, she paused; should she order him to take the Rinkah prisoner? Or order him to heal her. She lifted her arm and winced slightly – right now she needs her sword arm back more than anything. Would it be that she had three retainers, but alas she does not. With a sigh she gestured to her arm and thigh. “Jakob, heal me; I’m of no use to anyone in this state.”

He seemed to have only noticed her wounds – she’d have Gunter drill him on the finer art of perception later – and practically sprinted over to her, hands bathed in a soft glow and magical staff pulled from…somewhere. She dared not question her retainer’s and their strange feats in her service. As she felt Jakob begin the healing spell that would flow over her and soothe her stiffened muscles while stemming the blood from both wounds completely, she turned to the last prisoner – despite being practically half-naked, surrounded by the men and women of Nohr’s army and on the floor bleeding Rinkah shot her a glare of defiance, ready to open her mouth and spout some nonsense or other about being led to their execution.

She turned to one of the many guards still left in the room and, after a moment, waved one forth – his name was Robert, if she remembered correctly. He’d been one of her father’s personal guards before he suffered a minor wound on his thigh and was no longer as fast as he had once been. Despite being slow he could wield a weapon…and, thinking pragmatically, Nohr could not afford an army even one man down right now.

 He was knighted, which seemed to do him favours in the departments of compensation and respect, but she was still his princess. He may be a knight, but she was the person he was knighted to protect.

He stepped forth, bowing when he stopped in front of her – not low, as he would do to her father, but a short bow that indicated respect, rather than subservience.

“I remember you; ser Robert. You served father.” He wordlessly nodded; one does not get summoned by a princess for idle chat, after all. “Grab the prisoner, Rinkah, and follow my retainer Gunter.”

“Milady?” It was Gunter’s turn to speak. “Where are we taking them?”

“To my current chambers.” Was the reply, but before he could say anything against it, she continued – she knew he’d say something logical that she couldn’t argue against, so she needed to interrupt whatever thought process he had. “That’s an order, Gunter; I wish to have words with them.”

She turned, ignoring the way the prisoners fought to break form their handler’s grasp and failed when Robert felt it better to club Rinkah over the head and drag her over his shoulder – well, she mused, at least he caught on quick.

Jakob had just finished healing, and bowed. “I shall draw you a bath at once, lady Corrin.” Before she could get a word in, he continued, already making his way towards her chambers. “After all, to deal with Hoshidans after a battle? You need your rest soon after lest you collapse!”

He was already gone before she could fire back with one of her many retorts that went along the lines of ‘I’ll simply have you deal with them then’, to which he’d get all indignant and draw her a bath anyway. Regardless of consequences and people watching she turned on her heel and froze.

She’d forgotten her siblings were even there.

She’d forgotten Elise was watching her fight, watching her gather inconsequential injuries.

She’d forgotten Camilla was glaring at the door the Hoshidans left through.

She’d forgotten Leo was impassively taking in her form and deciding whether or not to heal her because he doubted her retainer’s abilities with magic.

She’d forgotten Xander was there, still gobsmacked over the outcome of this entire ordeal.

She’d forgotten how inquisitive they could be, and how much of a headache Elise would bring her tonight.

…this could only go so well.


	3. Exposition: Situational Awareness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took a while to get out, and there's not much here unfortunately; but I blame real life, in all honesty. 
> 
> Now that we've gotten that out of the way, this chapter is just exposition, and then after this will be a time skip that sends us straight to the kidnapping of Corrin by Hoshido.

There was often, amongst many nobles, the thought that Corrin was a girl as savage as those of Hoshido, a woman of unparalleled cruelty welling within her and waiting to be unleashed upon any stupid enough to draw her ire. There was another thought that was equally as widespread; that she was a girl of immense power locked away and to be used as a weapon against Hoshido should to the time come. A rumour much more dissentious than the previous two was that she was not even Garon’s child at all, instead the girl of a bastard relationship between whomever her mother might be and a nobleman of unknown origin.

Despite everything the nobles of the courts liked to spin in favour of their own amusement there was one thing each of them could agree with as fact; that Corrin Von Krakenburg, third child of Garon and budding swords-master, was cold. Not, of course, in the sense that she was frigid as her maid Flora – in both senses – or unwelcoming like Beruka, but more of…quiet. Unapproachable at first and of an off demeanour, she was nothing reminiscent of the small child that used to run around with a grin and a laugh, a wonder that stared at everything with the widest eyes and the merriest of dispositions.

None are too sure exactly what happened to change her, but they unanimously agreed that the princess retained one thing from her childhood – two, if one counted her passion for piano to be of importance. She’d had interests in singing, but ceased when puberty struck and her voice was no longer as heavenly as it used to be; she could handle songs that didn’t require her to hit high notes, but anything other than those and she’d flat out refuse. She had a passing glance at dancing, but the girl may as well have had two left feet. She’d attempted archery but each and every time was more of a threat to the bow and herself than the targets she was aiming for. The art of the spear was one she was familiar with, but she felt it was too passive a style of fighting for her to entertain more than a month of training.

Again, they did say she kept one thing despite her current attitude.

Her kindness.

She was often called, as many of her siblings were, a title created by the nobles to make her seem more than she was – Xander was known as the Knight-Prince, a title given for his outfit and demeanour towards chivalry above all else. Camilla’s titles were many and none too flattering, but one stuck out and cemented itself amongst the minds of nobles everywhere; Camilla the Valkyrie, for when her wrath fell upon those that slighted her in any way the air would chill and her axe would sing a song that led others to their deaths. Leo had a single one, simple in that it embodied everything he tried and aspired to be; Nohr’s Dark Mage, the man with a grimoire of spells both mundane and powerful, with a control over the magic he commanded not seen before. Elise was simply known as Princess Elise; she’d not yet made any form of name for herself in any which way to influence any opinions of her, though many agreed she was on the spoiled side, with a cheery disposition to everything around her.

Garon himself retained many titles before he ascended to kingship; Garon the Mighty, a man that felled armies with his axe and magic both. Garon the Proud, for he stood tall where others fell. Garon the Benevolent, for he took all of Nohr in and sheltered everyone regardless of social standing.

His recent ones since ascending the throne, however, became less flattering spoken about at social gatherings, and more degrading and frankly treasonous words monikers that were whispered behind the safety of closed doors.

Corrin’s was simple, really; nothing overly expressive, nothing over the top as Garon’s former ones had been, but nothing too simple like Leo’s short but to-the-point title. Hers explained everything about her but, at the same time, told others that she was but a girl with a sword with the eyes of the ocean and a soul of waves. The heart of an angel and the mind of a warrior well past her years.

Corrin the Merciful; for she would show even the staunchest of enemies a kindness no other in Nohr would dare.

Rinkah could not but see how right that title suited her new…Lady. Just hours ago, she was captured by Nohrian soldiers, prepared to give her life for Hoshido and her tribe; but then came the king himself, declaring her a prisoner in the need of fighting to escape her fate. She was ready, able, and willing to kill all who stood in her way to leave this cold castle – this house of untold horrors, many of which were in the form of Garon himself. This castle had seen the deaths of thousands by all hands – torturers that got too excited, Garon when he was simply bored, the soldiers taking out their grudges on whomever entered.

She herself was very nearly executed by the daughter of King Garon, but for some reason she’d seen fit to ‘save her’. Corrin the Merciful indeed, dooming your spoils of battle to a life of servitude and ruin – but again, Rinkah had to remind herself of her mission. Kaze, on the other hand, had no trouble; he was there when Sumeragi was slaughtered, when Garon showed himself as the evil Hoshido proclaimed him to be…when princess Kamui was taken and tortured, bent to the will of Garon himself to become a fill-in for the daughter Hoshido stole from him a year later.

Kaze never forgot his mission, and Rinkah was ashamed to say that she did. She was aiming for the kill when she swung, aiming to crush the princess’ head into a pulp and flee while the Nohrians around her were shocked…yet it never changed her gradually opening eyes at just how wrong this war was; with thoughts as they were she couldn’t even hold a grudge to the wayward princess. She’d believed Hoshido righteous in their retaliation for King Sumeragi’s death, believed her home country correct in their efforts to beat back Nohr. Rinkah had seen the death Nohr could bring upon its enemies, seen the hatred burning in enemy soldiers’ eyes and the relief blazing in Hoshidans’ when they beat back a skirmish. Rinkah had seen Nohr as greedy and power-hungry, seeking more than they had any right to have and wanting more than that when they got what they were after.

Nohr, to Hoshidans, was a dark country of betrayal, taboo and hatred that they wanted nothing to do with, even if it led to the deaths of thousands of innocent bystanders; mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers…children. Everyone in Nohr would suffer because of the pride and greed of the royalty and the hatred Hoshido had with them.

In the eyes of the enemy Hoshidans were no more than brutes that stopped them from getting the resources they needed to survive the next few years. Food to feed their families, drinks to stave of dehydration, water to feed their dying crops.

Rinkah was trying to dispute this logic, even as the retainer of her ‘Lady’ led her – surrounded by guards, of course – to Corrin’s chambers. Even then she glanced outside the castle and saw how barren and empty the snowfields were; surrounding the castle was, of course, the city below – a city she’d not bothered to learn the name of – but in the area crops were supposed to be growing were nought but what looked like weeds. No carrots, no potatoes, no leeks and cabbages.

It was probably why Kaze had trouble buying them food from vendors when they were sneaking into the castle.

Her thoughts were chased away when she was forced to stop – besides her Kaze had stopped of his own merit, and was therefore not forced as roughly as she was. In front of her rested a large oaken door, no carvings as she’d seen idly on the other doors in the hallway, no metal engravings and extravagant additions. A large brass door-knocker rested to the side, with a door handle plated in what looked like steel resting to the left of it, and what seemed to be visible hinges – did the door open outwards? Or was it a stylistic choice?

It was the person next to the door that drew her eyes next; a tall man, aged with a slightly receding hairline and a shock of silver hair covering his scalp.  Wrinkles lined his cheeks, some swallowed by the abundance of scars riddling his skin. A liver spot or two showed itself amongst the checkboard that was his face, and beneath his eyes were slight rings of black – bags indicating either restless nights or simply not enough sleep; she would have thought them natural were they a shade lighter, but thought against such notions. His eyes, shaded as they were, held a piercing quality to them that froze the soldiers behind her and locked her knees in place.

Out of the corner of his eye Kaze saw her shudder, but didn’t fault her body’s natural reaction to fight off the fear that such a frigid gaze gave them.  Rinkah, on the other hand, was more focused in trying to avert her gaze from his, and focus instead on his white collared shirt.

She wondered, briefly, why he was here, and if so for what reason; could it be coincidence? His stopping them at the door was not something she’d seen coming, but then again, she hadn’t a clue whether or not this was actually the quarters of her new “owner”. Kaze remembers seeing him in the fight not a couple of hours ago, he who had dealt with the two soldiers that chased him with finesse belying his age – and yet, despite his clumsy movements due to what could possibly be arthritis, the sheer skill he’d seen had told him that this man was a veteran. The experience in dodging or blocking more than one person attacking was something never to scoff at – and even if he hadn’t seen the battle that took place between all three combatants, he could be sure that this man was the victor with little to no injury on his person for a _reason_.

His cold gaze moved towards the soldiers standing either side of the two Hoshidans, nodding at them once to show their help was appreciated but no longer needed – it was a gesture every veteran performed to their underlings when something was in their control no matter the country or customs; it seemed to be the norm for superiors to dismiss their underlings with very little movement.

Then as Rinkah had just started normally breathing again his gaze shifted to both her and Kaze – the ninja in question deciding to maintain eye-contact somehow, and somewhat succeeding. The man in front of them seemed impressed with his resistance, however little.

“Not _completely_ spineless; good.” His eyes shifted to her and she couldn’t help but look away – in that gaze was a thousand screaming dead, clawing through his pupils and dragging her in further – it would have been mortifying had her skin not been paling in horror and her hands shaking incessantly. He gazed at her a moment longer, studying her up and down as though trying to ascertain something, before ‘harrumphing’ and turning to the door.

His head tilted over his shoulder every-so-slightly, cold eyes glossing even further; Kaze felt it, now, hands clenched into fists at his sides and knuckles whitening as the man in front of them tapped the arming sword to his waist.

It said more than the man ever could, and even the fear-stricken, usually hot-headed Rinkah got the message. ‘Behave or you’ll die’.

Without further preamble he shoved the door open and walked in, the two following after a moment of hesitation.


End file.
